


a vision of the one i see

by Resamille



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Lance are Siblings, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Galra Keith (Voltron), Keith and Lotor are Siblings, Kinda, M/M, Reincarnation, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 19:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13255335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/pseuds/Resamille
Summary: There's something that brought Keith and Lance together once. Maybe it's luck. Maybe fate. Maybe it's a giant robot lion.In which Kova is a rather poor example of Schrödinger's cat, Lance wants nothing more than to prove himself, and the world as they know it ends.





	a vision of the one i see

**Author's Note:**

  * For [datekogyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/datekogyo/gifts).



> Happy very late birthday Bobbobobobo.
> 
> This is sorta canon-compliant. I tried to make it fit within the real timeline as much as possible, but there's some discrepancies with Honerva's canon degradation into Haggar so. Not quite canon-compliant.
> 
> IS THIS ENEMIES TO LOVERS ENOUGH I TRIED??? THEY AREN'T REALLY ENEMIES THO OOPS.
> 
> Some warnings for temporary character death. See: reincarnation tag.
> 
> Title from A Million Dreams from the Greatest Showman

It starts, as things do, with giant mecha lions.

Or, more specifically: one lion. The Red lion, in particular.

When King Alfor, Lance's father, announced his retirement (finally, _quiznak_ ) as a paladin of Voltron, there were two eligible candidates to fill the position.

The first was Lance himself, prince (but not crown prince) of Altea. Since he was a child, he'd been working his ass off to become a paladin. He'd been honing his marksman skills as soon as Allura had recognized his value as a precision sniper. Though he didn't need to, he'd sit in on Allura's higher-level diplomacy and foreign cultures lessons. And yeah, maybe he wasn't the best at piloting, but he knew the lions were different. He'd figure it out. Basically, Lance was destined for this role.

His competition was Keith.

Keith, the second son of Zarkon, known for his fierceness in close combat. Keith, who excelled at everything he did, especially piloting. Keith, who stood aloof and condescending at any sort of social event, too good to mingle with the others. Lance has seen him only really interact with his family and his personal guard, Shiro.

Lance hates him with absolute, undying passion.

 

“Wouldn't the King just pass on the lion to you?” Pidge asks from their hunched position over their desk.

Lance sighs, splaying dramatically over the arm of his chair. He likes hanging out in the basement alchemy labs because there's always something interesting happening here. Even if the interesting thing is annoying Pidge until they kick him out. “No. Dad's too noble to just let me take over. He's gonna come up with some way to for us to prove ourselves.”

“That's fair,” Pidge comments dryly. “So why are you upset?”

“Because there's so much that Keith's good at!” Lance cries. At his distress, Kova, who always seems to be lurking in the labs, pads over and noses at his leg. Lance reaches down to stroke along his back before lifting him into his lap. Somehow the cat never seems to get in the way of the experiments.

Pidge pauses for a moment in their alchemist's work to peer over their shoulder at Lance, brow furrowed. “Wouldn't that... make him a better paladin, then?”

Lance frowns. “I mean, yeah, but, like, there's stuff I'm good at too! But that stuff isn't really likely to be the test that Dad picks.”

“Sure,” Pidge says disbelievingly. They turn back to whatever weird crystal they're examining.

Lance lets out an annoyed groan. When Pidge doesn't pay any attention to him, he turns to stare at their back. “What are you working on?”

“One of the meteorite crystals. I've treated it with Weblum spit and Tel'vin oil. I'm waiting for something to happen.”

“Have you tried zapping it?”

“No. I don't want to introduce another unknown.”

“I think you should zap it.”

“Lance, no.”

“Come on, do it. I—”

“ _Lance_.”

“—dare you.”

“Quiznak. _Fine_.”

“Wait, wait, I wanna watch,” Lance says, scrambling to stand. Kova leaps from his lap with an annoyed meow. Lance leans over Pidge's shoulder to look through their messy hair.

Pidge prepares to use their magic, drawing their hands back. They take a deep breath, flick their wrists upward, and put their fingers together. As they separate their fingers, light like electricity dances between their fingertips. Slowly, Pidge puts their hand close enough to touch the magic to the crystal.

For a moment, nothing happens, and then, like a twig catching fire, the crystal alights, zapping and crackling enough to make it tremble. One of the sparks reaches out towards Pidge's hand and they jerk away.

There's a hum in the air, of tension and electricity. Pidge carefully scoots their chair back as the crystal sends more sparks flying. “Um,” they say. “Lance, I blame you.”

A well-placed spark hits the work lamp on Pidge's desk. It blazes white-hot before shattering, and Pidge squeaks as they fling their chair further away. They hit Lance's hip in the process, but Lance is too busy scrambling away to care.

“Make it chill!” Lance screeches at Pidge.

“You told me to do it!” Pidge yells back. “You stop it!”

“Hell no! What if I die?”

“Good riddance! You—Kova, _no_!”

In their bickering, Kova had jumped up onto the desk. Kova, well-trained enough to never before interfere with any of the weird shit that happens around here, decides of all times to be curious.

And, well, curiosity killed the cat.

Kova reaches forward with a paw before Pidge can fling themselves forward to grab him. As soon as his paw makes contact with the crystal, the sparks dance along Kova's body, scattering over his fur, down to his tail tip.

And then they're gone.

Kova goes limp.

Pidge, wide-eyed and terrified, stares at their desk.

Lance slowly picks his jaw off the ground. “Well, uh... quiznak.”

“I think you just killed Kova,” Pidge whispers. “Honerva's gonna kill you. And then she's gonna kill me.”

“ _Quiznak_.”

 

Honerva was surprisingly accepting when Lance and Pidge timidly approached her to tell her about the incident (and profusely apologize, in hopes that Honerva might have mercy upon them).

“It was bound to happen sometime,” Honerva said, a lilt of sadness to her tone. “I shouldn't have let him roam so much in the labs.”

And that had been it. Lance was honestly surprised they didn't get punished.

“I'm gonna miss him,” Pidge sniffs.

“He had a good life,” Hunk says, patting their shoulder.

Pidge sighs. “And needless to say, my research is definitely canceled.”

“What was that anyway?” Lance asks. “I've never seen anything go crazy like that. Do you think it would kill an Altean, too?”

“I don't know,” Pidge says dejectedly.

“From what you've told me,” Hunk says, “I don't know if the crystal itself is what killed Kova. It sounds more like it was the jolt from your magic.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Pidge deadpans. “Doin' a real good job of making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” Hunk sounds genuinely apologetic, as he always does. Because he always is. “I didn't mean to. I just meant that I think your crystal was acting as a conduit. Nothing more.”

Lance's brow furrows. “I don't know... Pidge definitely didn't use enough magic to kill Kova like that. The crystal had to have done _something_.”

“Can we just... not talk about this?” Pidge asks quietly.

“Yeah, sorry Pidge,” Hunk says, rubbing his hand along their arm. “So, Lance, what's the news on the Red lion?”

Lance groans. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The suspense is kil—driving me nuts.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing for you to not get it,” Hunk says.

“What?” Lance squawks. “No! No way—I've been training for this for my whole life.”

“Don't get me wrong, it's cool and all, but all I'm saying is going into battle and negotiating peace between warring peoples and stuff sounds super scary.”

“I mean, sure,” Lance admits. “But think about all the adventures! The glory! Allura's gonna be so jealous while she's stuck being a queen, and I'm out there traveling the universe and doing all sorts of awesome missions.”

“Lance!” growls a voice from somewhere behind them, down the hallway.

Lance whirls. For a moment, he's blinking, shocked, that Keith is stalking towards him. His ears are pinned back to his head, gaze hard and blazing.

Mildly terrified, Lance defaults to Diplomacy 101. “Keith, how can I help—”

“You killed my cat!” Keith's fist collides with Lance's jaw.

In the middle of speaking, Lance bites down on his tongue when he's hit, and he tastes blood spilling into his mouth. He doesn't have a moment to recover before Keith is pushing him up against the wall, arm braced against Lance's throat.

Lance croaks out a choking noise, fingers scrabbling against Keith's arm, trying to pull it away. This close, Lance can see the fur on Keith's cheeks is matted down, wet and mussed from tears. Something aches in Lance. Most likely, his lungs.

Hunk and Pidge had jumped into action when Keith first attacked, readying to hit him with their magic, but both are hesitant to assault a Galran prince. Pidge is only an alchemist in training—respected, but holds no sovereignty. Hunk, as Lance's cousin, has a bit more clout, but still isn't on the same standing.

Lance has no such qualms.

With a magic-boosted shove, Lance blasts Keith off him, sending him stumbling against the far wall.

“Lance! What the hell is going on?” Allura comes stalking down the hallway from the opposite direction Keith had come with Matt at her side. “Keith, are you okay?”

Keith glares viciously at Lance, baring his teeth.

Meanwhile, footsteps from the direction Keith came announce the arrival of Lotor and Shiro.

Shiro slows to a stop and takes a heartbeat to assess the situation before going to Keith. As soon as he moves towards him, though, Keith turns and bolts, roughly pushing past Allura without a word.

Shiro lets out a resigned sigh, looks at Lotor, and then follows Keith, this time much more careful as he slips past Allura and Matt.

“What happened?” Allura demands.

Lance coughs. “Mullet tried to choke me.”

“You _did_ kill his cat,” Hunk points out.

“Yes, thanks for the reminder, Hunk,” Lance wheezes back.

“You _what_?” Allura screeches. “Does Dad know?”

“Probably,” Lance says, waving at her dismissively.

“We already told Honerva,” Pidge says, still sullen.

“It's been taken care of,” Lance says.

“Quiznak,” breathes Matt. “Poor Kova.”

“It was an accident,” Pidge defends weakly. They sniffle.

Matt's frown deepens. “Oh, Pigeon,” he whispers, going over to his sibling and wrapping his arms around them.

Lotor steps forward. “I apologize for my brother's actions. He was especially fond of Kova.”

“He's the one who should be apologizing,” Lance grumbles. “If my neck is bruised for the Vasili ball, I'm going to actually be pissed.”

“Lance,” Allura scolds. “This is your fault, too.”

“It was an accident!” Lance growls.

“Stop,” Pidge says quietly.

Allura presses her lips together, jaw working. It's what she does when she's legitimately upset but doesn't want to show it. Lance watches as she fits the mask back over her expression as he turns to face Lotor.

“I would like to apologize for my brother's actions, as well. I'm sure once given the proper time to grieve, Keith and Lance will be able to reconcile.”

Lance snorts.

“Of course,” Lotor says with a pleasant smile. “No harm done.”

 _Tell that to my esophagus_ , Lance wants to say, but manages to stop himself. The tip of his tongue is numb now, from where he bit it.

“Lance, Dad wants to talk with you,” Allura says.

Lance huffs out an annoyed breath. Turning to Hunk, he mutters, “I'll catch up later.”

“Yeah,” Hunk answers. “I'll stick with Matt and Pidge, if they'll let me.”

“Yeah,” Lance answers, and then trails after Allura. He feels like a child being sent to time-out. It's degrading and humiliating and the worst part is he knows he deserves it.

Once out of earshot of the group, Lance asks, “So what does Dad want?”

“Nothing,” Allura says curtly. “It was just the quickest way to get you away from everyone before you did something stupid.”

Lance stops walking. “Seriously?” he hisses.

“Yes,” Allura says, turning to look at him with an unamused glare. “But I do have news.”

“And what is that?” Lance grumbles.

“Dad decided on the test for the Red lion. It's going to be a speeder race.”

Lance blinks at her, and then groans. “Quiznak. Of course it is.” Lance leans over and lets his body slump against the wall.

“What?” Allura asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Lance looks up at her, deflated of all stubborn anger. All that's left is resignation. “Keith's gonna win.”

 

The race is three quintents later. Lance hasn't seen Keith since their almost-fight. He's spent the time trying to figure out what route the race may encompass and practicing in bouts of motivation or wallowing in preemptive self-pity. One of those options was far more successful than the other. Give a guess which one.

Lance takes in a deep breath, mounted on his speeder and waiting for the setup the finish so they can actually get to the race. Neither competitors are intended to know the course before the start of the race, so they were both transported to the location with a blackout screen around them. The route of the course is already programmed into their speeders, but won't be revealed until someone yells _go_!

In the meantime, Lance is praying for a mostly straight-shot. He knows he has Keith beat in base speed, but Keith has far better control. Lance loses time to wider turns, so a complicated, obstacle-riddled course would guarantee Keith the win. He might stand a chance if it's something larger scale, more intent on testing long-distance.

Finally, the blackout box dematerializes around him. Lance blinks into the sunlight, letting his eyes adjust. Before him is a long stretch of plateau. Lance squints, puzzled, and then glances down at the navigation system on his dash. Huh.

A straight course, the entire way. Just go forward.

Lance has this in the bag. In the distance, the cliff face drops off. That must be where they're racing to.

Someone announces the start of the race. Lance braces himself, heart pounding.

Wait, but a straight course is really weird, right? Maybe his navigation system screwed up—shit, no! That's so unfair! What if Keith sabotaged it? Lance opens his mouth to say something.

“ _Go!_ ”

“Quiznak!” Lance shouts, and then speeds forward to keep up with Keith.

Keith gets the head start while Lance is distracted, but he's aiming straight forward, too, so Lance's navigator must be right. Revving the speeder's engine, Lance shoots forward.

As he passes Keith, he glances over. Keith refuses to acknowledge Lance whatsoever, instead keeping his gaze on the path ahead of him. Lance snorts. Of course. Always holier-than-thou. Lance speeds up. Almost there. Almost there.

At the edge of the cliff, Lance pulls up, the only way to come to a stop without having to slow down earlier in the race. He almost flips his speeder, coming to a near-vertical before he coaxes the nose of his speeder back down. Lance, breathing hard with adrenaline, is about to whoop for victory when Keith darts past him.

Lance's gaze automatically follows Keith as he flies over the edge of the cliff. Does he have a damn death wish? What the hell!

“Ke—” Lance starts.

Except that's when he sees the the other cliff, a few meters away, with the finish line marked in black paint across the sandy ground.

Furthermore, he sees Keith, past it, climbing off of his speeder and walking towards where the Red lion sits, waiting.

 

Lance spends the next two quintents sulking. Twice, he's seen Keith return from practice missions with the other paladins at his Dad's right hand side, red paladin helmet tucked under his arm. Twice, he's seen his father greet Keith with a wide smile and open arms. Lance would stay long enough to notice King Alfor's lips moving, though he's too far away to hear anything. Long enough to watch the pride in Zarkon's eyes, the soft smile grace Keith's expression, and the growing endearment in his own father's gaze for Keith.

Lance expected to lose the Red lion.

He didn't expect to lose his dad, too.

“Lance, my boy, what's wrong?”

“Hey Coran,” Lance mumbles, looking up from where he's sprawled across the couch in the castle lounge, upside down.

Coran crouches and pokes at Lance's shin, resting over the back of the couch. Lance puts in the effort to lift his head up to glance at Coran, before letting his head flop back down.

“What's going on?” Coran asks. He steps down onto the couch and then to the floor so he's on the same level as Lance when he crouches this time.

“Nothing,” Lance says.

“Lance.”

Lance sighs. “Just... Feeling sorry for myself, I guess.”

Coran lets out a thoughtful noise. “Because of Keith?”

“...Yeah,” Lance admits.

Coran rises and sits on the couch next to Lance. “I used to want to be a paladin, too.”

“Really?”

Coran chuckles softly. “Of course. Who wouldn't want to?”

“Thanks Coran. Stellar consolation skills.”

Coran thwaps him on the side with the back of his hand. “I wasn't done. I would give anything to be a paladin, but I know there are others places I'm needed. Who do you think gives the paladins their intel? How do you think they figure out where to go?”

“I dunno,” Lance snarks, though it clicks into place, “Gut feeling and a heart of gold or some shit.”

Coran thwaps him again, and then stands. “Come with me.”

Lance groans, but swings his legs over his head, somersaulting into a standing position. He sways for a moment, regaining his balance, before trailing after Coran. “Where are we going?”

“My office,” Coran says.

Lance snorts, accompanied by a short, disbelieving laugh. “You have an office?”

Coran tilts his chin up, indignant. “Of course I have an office. All the royal family and their advisers have one. I mostly use mine for storage. But that wasn't the office I was talking about.”

“I don't have an office,” Lance quips.

“Not yet,” Coran says. “You will.”

Lance sighs. “So where are we actually going?”

Coran turns, winks, and struts into the navigation room.

“What?” Lance says.

“Alfor's retirement is beginning to mark the next era,” Coran says, going to the navigation console and booting up the star map. “The others are staying for now, but it's time for a new reign of paladins. There are other chances for you, Lance. Other lions, perhaps more suited towards you. But, in the meantime... There are things to learn.”

Lance's interest is piqued. Hope, renewed. “Like?”

“You've been listening in on Allura's foreign relations classes, right?” Coran asks. He focuses the map somewhere across the galaxy. “Where's this?”

Lance bites his lip, thinking. “Um, Arus.”

“Good,” Coran says. “And what are they known for?”

“Well, they have a village lifestyle. Mostly peaceful and highly religious. They take it a bit too seriously.”

“That's something you definitely don't want to say in front of them,” Coran scolds. “But correct.”

Coran zooms out on the map, moving somewhere else. “Do you know what this is?”

Lance wracks his brain. “The, uh... K... Karth....ian system?”

“Karthulian,” Coran corrects. “But close. Do you know why it's important?”

“No clue.”

“Each of the planets in this system is nearly uninhabitable. We've done very little to try and tame the unfriendly environments. Instead, we've been using them to train. You've heard the lions have distinct alignments? Each of these planets is used by one lion. You might like to know that this is where Keith's recent missions have been.”

“Uh, sure,” Lance says. “I guess that's cool.”

Coran glances over at him, appraising, before turning back to the map. Lance stares at his feet until Coran's voice draws him back.

“At the edge of this system—here—is an artificial station. There's an excellent establishment there. I'll take you the next time I visit.”

“Seriously?” Lance asks, dubious.

“Of course,” Coran says. “You're going to have to do some hands-on learning and networking if you're going to be my understudy.”

 

Less than a movement later, Lance finds himself practically taking over for Coran. The job isn't especially difficult, especially since Lance is mostly doing busywork for now, but he takes a liking to it. It's mostly all research, but at least it's actually interesting. People and cultures and history and relationships. Not some alchemy shenanigans like Pidge's work.

Impossibly, Lance enjoys it, immensely.

One of the best things about the job is the vaguely annoyed look on Keith's face every time Lance pops up on his holoscreen to give directions. So what if Lance might be a little bossy with him. The satisfaction's worth it.

They'd argued the first couple of times Lance was handing out assignments. Lance suspects it was mostly Keith still feeling resentful towards him, which is annoying, but _fine_ , if he wants to be a dick, so be it. As soon as Lance had Coran confirm the mission, Keith sat back and followed directions, and eventually he figured out that Lance wasn't just screwing around and actually knew what he was doing.

What's surprising, however, is the moment Keith comes to _him_.

Lance is waiting in the entry hall for the Vasili ambassador (Lance intends to intercept him before his official meeting with Allura to finalize the guest list) when Keith wanders towards him. Lance looks over his shoulder, checking to see if Shiro is hiding behind him somewhere or something, but there's no one there. So Keith must be approaching him, then.

Lance takes a step back as he comes close.

Keith freezes, ears dropping slightly. “I'm not going to hit you.”

Lance lets his shoulders relax. “Can't always tell with you.”

Keith shrugs with one shoulder, looking at least a little bit genuinely apologetic. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with you there.”

Keith glares at him, and then takes a deep breath, resigning himself to just ignoring Lance's comment.

“So what do you want?” Lance asks, propping his hand on his hip.

“I need a mission,” Keith says simply, staring at Lance unblinkingly. One ear flicks. Lance kinda wonders where in Keith's genetic line the ears cropped up. He takes after Zarkon in terms of DNA, but resembles neither Zarkon nor Honerva in appearance.

“A mission?” Lance echoes. “Coran told me no one was leaving today.”

“I, uh,” Keith says, and his ears flatten back. “I wanted this off-record.”

One of Lance's eyebrows raises questioningly. “What, prodigy child tired of being perfect and need to break some rules?”

Keith growls. “I'm not a prodigy. And I'm not perfect,” he snaps. Then, softer: “That's Lotor.”

“So where do you want to go? And _why_?”

“So that's a yes?”

Lance snorts. “I didn't say that. Answer the questions or it's a definite no.”

Keith groans. “I don't know. I don't really care. I just want to get out.”

Lance narrows his gaze at Keith. “Can't you just do laps around the castle or something, then?”

“It's not the same,” Keith grumbles.

“What do I get in return for this?” Lance presses. “ _If_ I do it.”

Keith blinks at him. “What?”

“You know our parents. They'd lose their shit if you were out on your own and I let you.”

“Um—” Keith says. “I don't... have... You could come with me?”

Lance's heart leaps at the prospect. He keeps the pulse of excitement to himself. “Really?” He tries to laugh incredulously, but it comes out a little breathless. “That's all you got?”

“Uh, yeah... Look, all I need is a wormhole boost and coordinates to somewhere relatively uninhabited.”

Lance makes a show of considering the offer, even though his heart has already answered. “Fine,” he says finally. “You owe me, though.”

 

Flying with Keith is exhilarating.

Lance had ridden in the Red lion before, with his father, as a kid. He'd heard stories of King Alfor's recklessness, his bravery and lack of self-preservation, but Lance had never really experienced it. Rides in Red were always gentle, fast and exciting in that sense but otherwise smooth.

Keith flies exceptionally differently.

The Red lion obviously has a type, though, because Keith still has that adrenaline-junkie foolhardiness that everyone keeps saying characterized his Dad's young adult years.

Lance holds onto the back of the pilot seat for dear life as Keith zips past foreign stars. Every time Lance tries to take a moment to drink in the awe and starlight, Keith takes a sharp turn, or rolls, or dives, or somersaults, or _something_ , and Lance nearly gets slammed into the wall.

“No wonder no one lets you out on your own,” Lance gasps out after nearly being thrown forward by a hard stop. “I'm amazed you haven't crashed this thing, yet.”

“Red likes it,” Keith states as way of explanation.

“I'm sure with your piloting skills she just let you waltz right in, huh?” Lance quips, feeling bitterness gather in his chest.

“She nearly threw me out of the hangar the first time. I think I probably would have fallen to my death if King Alfor didn't calm her down.”

“Quiznak,” Lance breathes, jealousy dissipating. “Really?”

“Yeah. And she still fought the entire time. Didn't let me fly her until I proved myself.”

“Huh,” Lance says. “How?”

Keith stays silent. When Lance leans forward around the pilot seat to look at him, Keith stubbornly turns to look the other way.

“Oh, fine,” Lance huffs. “Just when you weren't being a dick for once.”

“Look, I'm sorry about punching you!”

“I wasn't talking about that.”

Keith growls, a low sound. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, Mr. Loner? Always too good to talk to anyone in any social setting? Better than everyone at everything? How many people do you even talk to that you're not related to? Shiro?”

Keith's ears flick back against his head. After flying smoothly during their conversation, he suddenly makes a sharp turn. Lance, distracted, gets throw against the side of the cockpit.

“Ow! Asshole!”

They don't talk for the rest of the trip.

 

When they land outside the castle, however, Keith lets out a soft, “I'm not good with people.”

“What?” Lance says.

“I'm not trying to be a dick,” Keith elaborates. “I just... Don't read people well.”

Lance lets out a huffing noise as he walks out of the Red lion's mouth. “You seem to be fine now. At least until you shut down.”

Keith stays quiet, and Lance glances over his shoulder at him. He's standing at the top of the ramp, head tilted curiously at Lance.

“You're easy to read.”

Lance shrugs at him, not really believing him. If Keith wants to be moody and mysterious then that's his problem, not Lance's.

Though he has to admit, this entire time he always thought Keith would be far more conceited. He's grown up with him, practically, but this is the first conversation they've had that even remotely resembles a heart-to-heart.

Lance is squinting into the sun, waiting for Keith to hurry his slow ass up and send Red off to her hangar when he hears a mewling noise. It takes a moment to track down the source, but eventually Lance finds it: stuck in a bush along the pathway to the castle's entrance is a small kitten.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance calls, brushing leaves out of the way. “Comere.”

“What.”

“Come here.”

Keith groans but Lance hears footsteps behind him.

“What is it?”

“Look!” Lance says excitedly, holding open the window he's made by pushing leaves and branches out of the way. “There's a kitten. I think it's stuck. It looks a lot like Kova, right?”

At the name, the small creature perks up, mewling loudly and trying to press forward towards them.

Keith crouches next to Lance, eyes wide. “Quiznak,” he breathes. “It responded to the name, too.” He tests it. “Kova. Kova, come here.”

The kitten struggles against the branches holding it more, letting out a pitiful noise.

“No way,” Lance breathes.

Keith produces a small blade from somewhere on his person. He flicks open the pocket knife and carefully reaches through the gap Lance has made in the bush to cut away at the tangled branches. As soon as the kitten is free, is bounces forward and rubs his head on Keith's knee.

“I'm not crazy, right?” Keith says, sounding incredulous. Keith puts his palm out, flat, and the kitten plops its paw down on top of Keith's open palm. “I'm not crazy for thinking it's acting a lot like Kova, right? Kova used to do that all the time.”

“No, you're right,” Lance says. “Impossible, but you're right.”

Keith stays silent, jaw fallen open in a sort of awed shock.

“Okay, my turn to be insane,” Lance says. “But isn't that the same weird little silver mark that Kova had on his forehead?”

“You're not insane,” Keith breathes out.

Lance presses his fingers to his temples. “Okay. So, uh... What if... What if Kova didn't die?”

Keith looks up, eyes wide with hope and glistening. “How?”

“I don't know!” Lance cries. He stands up, throwing his arms in the air. He paces a few steps away before returning, pointing determinedly at the kitten. “We can check, though. Pidge used Kova's DNA for a project once, I think. We could compare it.”

 

It's Kova.

Younger, smaller, and cuter. But it's Kova.

Honerva is ecstatic, not only for the return of her cat, but also because that opens a whole new line of research. Pidge and Hunk are swept into all sorts of new projects, largely involved with reanimation of dead cells, though Hunk insists that's a mathematical dead-end.

“What we have so far,” Pidge had announced after working in the labs late into the night after Lance and Keith brought Kova 2.0 to Honerva. “Is that the crystals contained in the Daibazaal meteorite essentially kickstart a life cycle but from the beginning. While they killed Kova, they also reset Kova's life span.

“Unfortunately,” Pidge had added with an annoyed sigh. “We have no way of telling where or when the restart occurs. It's likely complete chance that Kova was this close to the castle, or even on this planet. We don't even know if it can cross species, either. We tried it with field mice, and mind you we have a large sample of field mice, but only about half of them showed up in the litters we incubated today, without any regard as to when we hit them.”

Keith had brushed Pidge's explanations off, grateful, instead, just to have his pet back. Lance tried to keep up, but once Pidge started using words like _confidence intervals_ and _atomic structure_ , Lance decided it wasn't worth losing his sanity to understand.

Looking at Keith now, Lance understands a bit more why Kova meant so much to him. Means so much to him.

Kova is simple. There are little details to pay attention to, maybe—the flick of his tiny tail, the flex of needle claws, the twitch of a black nose—but otherwise, cats are easy to understand.

Keith speaks their language.

“I think he missed you,” Lance says as he goes to join Keith on the floor of the lounge. He sits facing him and boxing Kova in between their legs.

“I missed him too,” Keith admits, stroking along Kova's stomach with careful fingers. Kova keeps trying to latch onto Keith's hand and chew on it, but Keith insists on petting him instead of playing.

Lance reaches over and provides a finger for Kova to bite so that Keith can pet him uninterrupted. Kova's back feet still keep kicking up and patting against Keith's wrist, though, so maybe not completely uninterrupted.

“I can't believe it,” Lance breathes. “But honestly, I'm not gonna question it anymore.”

“Me either,” Keith whispers.

“Your mom is super excited about it, too.”

Keith glances up at him, chewing on his lip. “Can... can I admit something?”

“Shoot.”

“I don't know if that's a good thing,” Keith says softly, looking back down at Kova, still nibbling on Lance's fingers and resisting pats. “My entire life, she's been obsessed with that meteor. And she looks fine, but... I think the fact that King Alfor put so many restrictions on her is driving her nuts—”

“Well, it's for her safety, right?” Lance says, shrugging.

“Yeah, that's not what I meant. I think she's pushing those boundaries. Breaking them, maybe. The crystals are going to be just another thing for her to rush into at full force, especially since she's getting to research them before Alfor knows enough to enforce and rules on them.”

“Huh,” Lance says, thoughtful. Kova stops chewing on his finger and starts licking it, instead, rough kitty tongue scraping against his skin. “Does your dad know?”

Keith shrugs. “I'm not sure.” His ears droop.

Lance bites his lip. He doesn't want to see Keith this dejected, not when he's actually having a conversation with Lance. He's not sure when that sentiment wormed it's way into his brain, but apparently it's made a home there. “Hey, come with me to the Vasili ball.”

He'll have to go convince Allura to adjust the guest list, but...

Worth it.

“What?” Keith squawks. His head jerks up and he stares at Lance.

Lance splutters out a recovery: “I-I mean—it doesn't have to be together-together. I just...” Lance takes a breath to try and steady his heartbeat. Calm down there, bud, when did you even start caring about going with Keith as a couple? “You have a hard time socializing, right? Well, make the rounds with me. I'll do the talking and you can... Observe and answer questions and maybe contribute a bit if you want to, yeah?”

Keith bites his lip, and Lance notices one of his canines poking into the flesh. “Okay,” he finally says. “Yeah, oka—ow! Kova!”

Kova apparently decided that Keith wasn't paying him enough attention while he was talking with Lance and decided to bite down on Keith's thumb. Laugh finds himself laughing at Keith's disgruntled expression.

If cats could look smug, Kova did.

 

It was hard convincing Pidge and Hunk to tear themselves away from their work to travel to the Vasili's home planet for the ball, but Lance figured it'd be worth it.

With the way Pidge is ogling their tech and the way Hunk is ogling their food, Lance figures they each found something enough to make the trip memorable. Keith, however, is glued to Lance's side. Shiro trails behind them a bit, but Keith insisted Shiro take the day off, too, so he's technically here as a guest, not an escort.

“There,” Lance says, gesturing, “Is the crown prince of the Vasili.”

Keith's gaze follows where Lance is pointing and he nods.

“The person Pidge is talking to is their head of technology. Over there is their royal ambassador.”

“What about the king?” Keith asks, sounding curious.

“The king is a collective,” Lance explains. “Made up of the prince and all highest-ranking officers. Technically the prince would hold the most power, but the voting council as a whole is what they call their king.”

“Oh,” Keith breathes out, and suddenly sounds far out of his depth.

“Have you not learned any of this?” Lance asks, guiding Keith towards the table of refreshments. He sounds like he needs it.

“Not really, no,” Keith admits. “Mostly combat training. Lotor does all the foreign relations stuff. Do you like this sort of thing?”

“I suppose,” Lance says. He snags two glasses of something from the table and passes one to Keith. “Drink. It'll relax you. You could do with some relaxing.”

Keith scrunches up his nose but obediently sips from the glass. He sounds surprised, after, when he mutters, “It's good.”

“Of course it is. The Vasili spare no expense.”

Someone brushes past Keith, and Keith's ear flatten against his head.

“Hey, hey,” Lance soothes. “Relax, remember?”

Keith makes a grumbling noise that's not quite a growl and takes another drink.

“I sat in on Allura's foreign relations lectures,” Lance says.

“What?”

“Why I know so much. I guess it kinda came natural to me. It's why Coran started training me, too.”

“Oh. Are... Are you going to keep working with him?”

“I guess so,” Lance says, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You wanted to be a paladin, right?” Keith asks. When Lance nods, he continues. “I think Blaytz is planning on stepping down, soon.”

“Huh,” Lance says softly. “That's sooner than I expected.”

“You're the most eligible person to become a new paladin,” Keith says.

“Yeah,” Lance says, feeling conflicted.

But then a Vasili approaches, introducing themselves and diving into the details of their current trading partnership with Altea. Lance may not have substantial knowledge on the subject, but he at least knows enough to bullshit it.

And when that Vasili slips away, another two take their place.

Keith dutifully stays at Lance's side. He answers direct questions and introduces himself when needed, but otherwise doesn't contribute to any of the conversations. Instead, he keeps a careful watch on Lance and periodically sips from his drink.

 

They find themselves on a balcony, in a bubble of quiet with the chatter dulled by the curtain separating them and the party.

Lance is leaning against the railing, staring out at the stars, while Keith has climbed onto the railing and is sitting on it, precariously balanced. Lance worries he might be slightly too tipsy for this to be safe, so he keeps a hand braced at Keith's waist.

It's just for safety. Nothing more.

But then Keith's voice is interrupting the quiet, calling his name, and Lance turns. Keith lurches forward, forehead hitting Lance's, but his lips are soft.

The downy fur on his face tickles Lance's cheeks, and for a heartbeat, Lance is frozen.

Keith immediately pulls back, an apology on his lips, but he overcompensates and the noise turns into a startled yelp as he starts to tip over the railing.

Except that Lance expected this, and he's been holding onto Keith's waist the entire night, if he's being honest with himself, so he's used to the feel of it beneath his palm. It's absolutely natural to tighten his hold, other arm automatically coming around to catch Keith's shoulders and keep his momentum from dragging him to the ground.

Keith's breathing hard as Lance sets him on his feet, arms still snug around him.

“I got you,” Lance tells him.

If Keith's going to thank him, the sound is lost between their lips. Because as soon as Keith doesn't look like he's about to pass out from the adrenaline high of almost dying, Lance kisses him like the sun won't rise again.

Some time later—though if Lance had to quantify it, for the life of him, he wouldn't be able to say how long—and many, many kisses later, Shiro throws the curtain behind them open.

Keith jolts away from Lance, looking stricken.

Shiro face is grave. He's panting, like he's been running. “I've... Been looking everywhere,” he gasps out. “Something happened on Daibazaal.”

 

By the time they get back, it's already too late.

Lance returns to find Coran and Allura already in cryosleep. The other four who were with Lance at the Vasili party trail after him with a sort of flighty trepidation. Lance's own fear is sharp in his chest, but King Alfor will know what to do. His dad always knows what to do.

Lance finds him in the control room of the castle. Lance doesn't remember running to him, but suddenly he's being hugged tightly, his father's tears soaking into his hair.

“What's going on?” Lance asks.

“I fear Altea has fallen,” Alfor says. “Zarkon convinced us to take Voltron into the rift. It was a mistake. I'm sending the lions away and setting the castle to autopilot to Arus.”

“And Altea...?” Pidge asks.

“It's too late. And it's too late for us, too. But you five. You can get out. Take the lions. They are intended to get as far away as possible, but you can use them to escape.”

“I'm not leaving without you,” Lance insists.

“I must stay,” Alfor says. “Or the castle will go into shutdown mode. I need it to stay on the offensive so you can get away.”

Something painful tugs at Lance's heart. He blinks away tears.

“Keith already can fly the Red lion,” Alfor says. “The Black lion is locked within the castle. Pidge, take Green. Hunk, Yellow. Shiro, Blue. Lance, go with Shiro or Hunk. The lions are sentient. They know the situation is dire. You will not need to pilot them.”

Lance nods, trying to carefully lock away his feelings in favor of following orders.

Alfor hugs Lance again. Lance lets the feeling soak through him, permeate his heart. It cracks through his shields. A sob escapes his throat, ugly and painful.

“I love you,” his father whispers. “Go.”

And so they do.

Shell-shocked and terrified into silence, the five of them race for the lion's hangars. The first of assaults on the castle rocks the ground with explosions.

Lance skids to a stop. “Wait!”

The others jolt forward a few more steps for they freeze and turn.

“What?” Keith hisses.

“We have to move,” Shiro says.

“Pidge, do you think you could get some of the meteorite crystals?”

Pidge's jaw drops open. “What the—yeah, yeah, I guess I could. _Why_?”

“Don't you see?” Lance says. “We're gonna die out there, no matter what. Even if we get away from Altea right now, we won't have food or water or weapons in the lions. What if instead of waiting for death, we just... restart?”

“We could end up anywhere!” Pidge screeches.

“Better than dead!” Lance fires back.

“I'm in,” Keith announces.

“I mean, I don't wanna die,” Hunk says, “But Lance's plan sounds like we might have a decent life somewhere.”

Pidge looks at them like they're insane. They look as Shiro. He shrugs.

“Can't be worse than getting blown apart by a laser,” he says.

“Haven't you ever wanted to research yourself, Pidge?” Lance says.

Pidge pins him with a dead stare. “It's saying something when _I'm_ the most sane person here, but fine! There's no point in going to the lions. They'll leave with or without us. Just head for the labs.”

They all take off again, though aiming for a new destination. Their footsteps pound against the floor, but the sound is drowned out by the laser fire and blasts from outside the castle walls.

When they get down to the labs, a laser fire almost takes Hunk's head off. He yelps.

Someone calls back, “Stay out!”

“Matt!” Pidge yells. “Let us in!”

“Pidge?”

They enter carefully, finding Matt standing guard. He'd found as many weapons as possible tucked away in the labs and amassed them nearby.

“Forget those,” Pidge says, waving at the weapons. “We have a plan.”

Pidge makes their way to their desk. They hold up two crystals. “It needs an Altean charge,” Pidge explains. “Doesn't take much to zap you. After it makes contact with one organism, it's harmless again, so we can reuse these.”

“What's going on?” Matt asks.

“We're resetting,” Lance says.

Matt's brow furrows, and then it seems to click into place.

“Who's going first?” Pidge asks.

No one steps forwards.

“Cowards,” Pidge huffs. They tosses one of the crystals at Matt. “Let's get this over with.”

Pidge swallows hard. “Ready?” they ask Matt.

“We'll find each other,” Lance blurts. “Somehow. We'll find each other. This isn't over.”

Pidge looks like they're about to protest, but then decides against it. Even Lance knows that what he just say is pretty much impossible to control. But that doesn't mean he's not going to believe it.

They'll make it through. They'll find each other. They will. They have to.

Matt meets Pidge's gaze. “Love ya, Pigeon,” he says.

He closes his hand over the crystal, and light flares from his fingertips.

Like with Kova the first time, electricity sparks across Matt's skin, and then: nothing. Pidge hiccups out a sob as Matt's body hits the ground.

They let out another sob as they follow suit.

Lance swallows hard. To better lives than the fate they have waiting for them here. That's what this is. He walks over to Matt and takes the crystal from his hand. “Who's next?”

“I'm up, I guess,” Shiro says. He walks over to Pidge and takes the crystal from their hand.

“Hunk?” Lance offers.

“Oh no,” Hunk says. “You go ahead.”

“I'll stay to charge Keith's stone before I go,” Lance explains. “Keith can't zap it.”

Everything feels surreal. Were these lives real, if they're about to flash forward to completely new ones?

Hunk looks upset at this prospect, but he grudgingly accepts the crystal from Lance.

“We'll go together,” Shiro tells him. “Ready? One, two, three...”

With a flash of light, Shiro falls. Hunk lets out a scream as he uses his magic, and the silence after feels deafening.

Lance closes his eyes. He sees a sandy beach. Clear waves. Warm sunlight.

When he opens them, Keith is holding a stone out in the palm of his hand.

He's crying. They both are.

“I'll find you,” Lance promises. “We'll find each other. We didn't have enough time... We'll make up for it. In the next life.”

Keith nods, slowly.

Lance reaches out to use his magic.

“I—” Keith starts, but then electricity dances across his body. He slumps forward into Lance's arms.

“Save it,” Lance whispers as he lowers Keith's body to the ground. “Save it for when we're together again.”

With a deep breath, Lance takes the crystal from Keith's hand. He closes his eyes. Says goodbye to his home. To his father. To his sister. To Coran. To the stars, just in case.

With jolt of magic, he ceases to be.

 

Lance wakes to alarms blaring. Another distress signal. Even the Garrison didn't have wake-up calls that were this obnoxious.

Groaning, Lance drags himself out of his bed and starts suiting up.

In the hallway, Keith is in the middle of putting his hair up in a ponytail and trying to walk towards the control room at the same time. Lance has to hold back a laugh at the strained concentration on his expression.

His heart stutters in his chest.

Because when Lance says _I know that mullet anywhere_ , what he means is that his mind had forgotten all that they'd been, but his heart had not.

Just like how Kova, so long ago, might not have actually known his name as a kitten, but some part of him knew. Some part of him was drawn to it, was drawn to Keith, and drawn to home.

So here they are, together again: drawn together. This is where they belong.

And when one day Keith blurts out the rest of his once-dying breath: “ _I love you_ ,” Lance doesn't freak out.

Keith continues, spluttering and blushing and confused. “I don't get it. I don't really know why and I don't... But I do. I love you.”

Lance takes him in his arms, holds on tight, and says, “I know.”

 


End file.
